Today was one of those days when I felt a deep ache for my dad. I had a doctor’s appointment where I discussed some minor health matters and shared my big aspirations for the future. All I wanted was to call him and share my news. We used to chat multiple times daily—though much of it involved playful banter—he was always in touch with my life. He was the first person I’d call after each prenatal check-up, and he lovingly nicknamed my son Leo “Ocho” (meaning “eight” in Spanish) because he resembled the number eight during an early ultrasound. It’s hard to believe that the little baby I kept my dad updated about has just celebrated his third birthday. Sadly, my dad wasn’t there for that milestone.
Like many individuals, I’m raising a child without my parents’ guidance. My mom passed away on December 13, 2008, just months after I finished college and tied the knot. She was only 50, succumbing to liver failure after battling alcoholism for many years. In her final years, I kept my distance due to her struggles, but we reconciled before she passed. I was there to witness her last moments, and just days before, she expressed her regrets about not being present in my life and her desire for a home, a dog, and a close relationship with me. I reassured her that I was doing well and asked her if she thought I’d be a good mother. She believed I would be, though I had my doubts.
My dad followed suit nearly two years later, passing away on December 15, 2010, at the age of 70 from kidney failure and various health issues. My parents had divorced long before, so I had a childhood split between Arizona, Colorado, and my dad’s own complex world. Although he had his struggles, we talked daily—often arguing—but our connection deepened as I grew older. He witnessed my college graduation and, although he missed my wedding, he did meet Leo. My dad moved back to Arizona shortly before his passing, and I’m grateful he had the chance to hold my son, who is truly my mini-me.
Leo was born in the midst of my parents’ passing, marking my life with a cycle of “loss, life, loss.” Alongside graduating, getting married, and settling into our first home, my husband and I have weathered a lot together in these few years. But this story isn’t just about that; it’s about parenting without parents.
Raising a child without my own parents is a lonely endeavor. I can’t send photos of Leo to my mom, nor can I call my dad to share his latest achievements. As Leo grows, his grandparents will be my husband’s parents, while mine will be a distant memory marked by “my mom’s parents passed away before I was born.” Complicating matters further is my mom’s history with addiction; I often wonder how involved she would have been. My dad, too, had his limitations due to his health and differing parenting philosophies. Yet now that they’re both gone, dwelling on the “what-ifs” seems pointless. I aim to keep their memories alive through photographs: my mom vibrant and healthy, my dad cradling Leo as a baby. I’ll share with Leo that his grandpa affectionately called him “Ocho” and that his grandma believed in my potential as a mother. I will also caution him about our family’s history of addiction, stressing the importance of responsibility and wisdom. The grittier details? Not necessary for now. Explaining death to a curious child? That’s still a mystery to me.
On a more positive note, parenting without my parents (or siblings; I’m an only child) has opened the door for me to embrace love on behalf of both myself and Leo. My in-laws are wonderful grandparents who live just a short walk away. His G-Ma (my mother-in-law) watches him several times a week, while his G-Pa (my father-in-law) enjoys weekend adventures with Leo at the children’s museum and local play areas. My aunt, my mom’s sister, even offered to step into the grandma role, and she was there when Leo was born. He also has an enthusiastic aunt (my husband’s sister) who can’t wait to take him to Disneyland, along with countless honorary aunts and uncles who shower him with love and attention. While I can’t text a parent photos of Leo, my supportive family and friends receive daily updates on his every move! And when I need parenting advice, my first call is to G-Ma.
It’s common for kids to grow up without a grandparent or two; for Leo, this will be his normal. His grandparents will be my husband’s parents, and his Mimi will live in Mesa surrounded by cousins. The challenge lies in my own acceptance of this new reality. Like all parenting journeys, it’s about embracing the shadows while appreciating the hidden blessings.
Will my dad ever take Leo fishing? No. But he left behind a blue kid’s fishing pole that I plan to dust off when the time is right—there’s even a pink one, just in case!
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Summary:
Navigating parenthood without one’s parents can feel isolating and challenging. This heartfelt piece shares the author’s journey of raising her son Leo following the loss of both her parents. While grappling with grief and the absence of her mom and dad, she finds joy in the love and support from her in-laws and extended family. Through photos and stories, she aims to honor her parents’ memories while fostering a loving environment for Leo, embracing the complexities of their family dynamics.